


Hop Cot

by Reyn



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Police, Humor, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 14:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16894455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyn/pseuds/Reyn
Summary: You’re dressed as a sexy cop at this party, please arrest me.





	Hop Cot

Damian didn’t want to go. There was no purpose in going. In fact, going would probably be detrimental to his college career, considering the amount of homework and reading he was expected to get done over the weekend.  
  
“It’ll help your social life! Did you know, the connections you make in college are some of the most important ones in your career? By starting to network here, you’ll have an inside into who knows how many fields thanks to everyone being in a wide variety of majors! How awesome is that??”  
  
Despite is upturned nose, Damian decided that _did_  sound pretty awesome.  
  
And so, he put his schoolwork aside, dressed into something sensible, changed into something “practical” at his roommate’s ardent horror, and headed out with the group, determined to make some connections that weren’t linked to him through his father.  
  
For some reason, Damian imagined a college party to be not so different from some of the raunchier parties his family had been invited to in the past. As he walked up the sidewalk to the large abandoned house that had been acquired for the night, he was starting to realize he couldn’t have been more wrong.  
  
The rancid smell of alcohol permeated the air, along with the heavy thrum of music’s deep bass coming from somewhere further inside. Various strings of Christmas lights and disco balls had been put up as a main light source, and all around, people were cheering, laughing, screaming, and just…moving.  
  
If Damian were to compare this to anything, he’d think he just walked into a flash mob version of the Harlem Shake.  
  
A hearty slap on his shoulder jolted him forward. “Alright! Let’s go have some fun!”  
  
Before Damian could answer, a red plastic cup was shoved into his hands with liquid sloshing over the sides, and by the time he looked back up, his friends had all scattered.  
  
Stepping out of the doorway, Damian sniffed at his cup before taking a sip. He had no idea how he was expected to network when everyone around him was acting like a bunch of animals.

Several drinks and two shots later, Damian had a feeling he was starting to figure it out. All he had to do was give out his business card at some point immediately after the cheers and people would happily take it and pocket it. And even better were the ones who used the back to write their names and phone numbers on it before giving it back.  
  
It seemed people of this age group had their own language when it came to networking, which included making a fist with the thumb and pinky pointed out by their head while saying, “Call me.”  
  
Damian could definitely do that.  
  
It was amidst a chugging contest that the bass to the music suddenly cut out, which actually did wonders for the light nausea Damian had been feeling for the last few minutes. He was nearly done with his drink when the chanting died out, and upon canting his eyes to the side, he noticed cops.  
  
The remainder of the beer sloshed down his shirt.  
  
Some distant form of logic screamed at him to get the hell out of there before he got caught and stained the Wayne family name. He was underage, several girls had gone topless, and he was pretty sure drugs were present. Considering his status, he would probably be arrested just to make a point.  
  
Pivoting on his heel, Damian moved to lose himself in the panicked crowd only to slam into a solid wall of muscle.  
  
Staggering back, he was saved from falling thanks to a sure hand at his elbow.  
  
Any gratitude he may have felt vanished as he realized his barrier/savior was one of the many officers filtering through the party.  
  
“’M’not drunk!” Damian immediately proclaimed, still clutching the uniformed arm for balance.   
  
“Damian??”  
  
Damian’s eyes went wide as recognition of the cop slowly filtered through his brain.  
  
“Oh, Christ on a cracker, your dad is going to kill you.”  
  
Officer Dick Grayson had been one of the orphans Damian’s grandparents had sponsored through schooling. He was older than Damian by a good six years, and despite being offered a free ride to just about any university in the country, Dick had decided to settle for the local police academy.  
  
Damian only ever really saw him over the holidays during his grandparents’ ugly sweater parties, where Dick would be wearing the same sweater every year. Damian was fairly certain the man kept it in the trunk of his car and pulled it on as he walked up to the door, since his hair was always in disarray as well.  
  
But now…  
  
Now Dick was put together. Hair lightly gelled back, uniform pressed, bright smile gone in replace of concern, and no red cheeks from being pinched by adults who had drank too much eggnog.  
  
All in all, Dick looked…amazing.  
  
“You’re going to arrest me,” Damian announced to the shiny badge on Dick’s chest.  
  
“Er, I was thinking about letting you off with a warning, but—”  
  
Damian shook his head. “You’re a hot. A…a cop. A hop cot. That’s what you do to bad boys like me.”  
  
Officer Grayson’s eyebrows shot up. “ _But_ ,” he stressed, “I have a very strong feeling you would spectacularly fail a breathalyzer test.”  
  
Body going ridged in offense, Damian snatched his hands back and glared into bright blue eyes. “I would _never_! I don’t fail tests!”  
  
“Right. How about a compromise? I escort you back to your dorm and you don’t worry about the test,” Dick offered, figuring this easier than dealing with the inevitable blow to Damian’s ego with the breathalyzer results.  
  
Damian frowned as he felt a gentle hand on his back guide him towards the entrance. “But…the law?”  
  
“I’ll worry about the law. You worry about not puking in my car. Sound good?”  
  
Damian mulled it over. “You’re not babying me, are you?”  
  
Dick’s laugh sounded like it was punched out of him. “No.” His gaze swept over Damian’s form. “Definitely not.”  
  
Placated for the moment, Damian allowed himself to be led to the crowd that was bottlenecked at the door and then through, following Dick to the throng of police cars that were parked in the street with their lights flashing.  
  
His jaw dropped open in betrayal when Dick opened up the backdoor to his patrol car.  
  
“You’re arresting me!”  
  
“No, this is just standard—” Dick cut himself off at the devastated look he was being subjected to.  
  
Damian had always been a kid who kept his emotions closed off from others. He rarely smiled, he swallowed his anger, and Dick had never seen him sad.   
  
He wasn’t sure he could handle a sobbing Damian in the back of his car.  
  
Instead, Dick mutely shut the back door and opened up the front passenger one instead.  
  
Once they were both settled, Dick radioed in his plans and turned off his light bar before making the three minute drive to the college dorms.  
  
“Are you going to tell my dad?”  
  
Dick winced at the question. He could picture Bruce yelling at him for not setting an example by arresting Damian just as easily as he could see himself getting yelled at for taking Damian in. It was a lose-lose situation.  
  
“I’m willing to keep it a secret if you are,” Dick offered. “Provided you tell me what you were doing at a party like that.”  
  
Damian’s head lolled around against his seat until it was facing Dick. “I was networking.” His eyes went wide with remembrance and suddenly he was struggling against his seatbelt to reach into his pocket. “Here!”  
  
Dick’s eyes darted from the road to take the card that he was being offered. He waited until they were parked before looking at it.  
  
It was a business card. With Damian’s name, number, email, and major all listed in gold font against a muted black background.  
  
Dick couldn’t have stopped his laugh even if he tried.  
  
“I just wanted to make connections that were my own!” Damian explained. “And not linked through my family! I’m a grown man now, I need to be able to rely on myself for things like this!”  
  
“That’s…that’s a sound idea.” Dick forced his laughter to subside and offered the card back to Damian. “But maybe next time, you should limit your networking to rallies rather than parties.”  
  
Damian frowned at the card. “You don’t want it?”  
  
“Well, I don’t really need it, considering I already know you.”  
  
“But…I want to be connected to you. Directly. And not—not through my grandparents.”  
  
Dick let out a measured breath. With drunks, their logic was always so simple. He knew there would be no harm in accepting the card and tucking it away in his wallet. But on a more personal level, Dick wanted to pry apart Damian’s logic with more questions. To dig into the man’s psyche while his emotions were still floating near the surface to see if his thoughts for Dick went any deeper than “hop cot”.  
  
In the end, professionalism won out, and Dick made a show of tucking the business card into his wallet.  
  
The smile he was awarded with was worth it, although seeing Damian make the classic phone sign and saying, “Call me!” threw him for a bit of a loop.  
  
So did Damian’s failed exit when he moved to quickly get out of the car despite forgetting to open the door first, leading him to knock himself out after banging his head against the window.  
  
Well...at least now Dick had an excuse to actually use the phone number provided to make sure Damian was okay in the morning.

THE END.


End file.
